


like a panicked prayer

by distancing_reality



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, a sort of character study but not really, aka: me, and dennis almost dies, dennis is awkward, one of my favorite lines in the entire movie is the "you've got a crumb!!!!!!", quotes from canon, tagged casey/dennis for those of y'all looking for more Casey Dennis interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distancing_reality/pseuds/distancing_reality
Summary: "Each inhale and exhale was a struggle. His fingers spasmed as he squeezed his eyes closed, a vein pulsing in his throat. He stood, turning on his heel and facing the hard brick wall.He waited as fluttering-tight breaths escaped his throat like a panicked prayer."ORDennis asks Casey for her sweatshirt.
Relationships: Casey Cooke/Dennis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	like a panicked prayer

**Author's Note:**

> rated for content of the movie.

**like a panicked prayer**

_a caseydennis fic_

* * *

There were a few things that Casey Cooke had come to expect in life. It was an abysmally short list. The very top item was this: if there was even the smallest possibility that something bad would happen, the bad thing would happen to her. As much as she had adjusted to this reality during her life, she hadn't been expecting it to apply to today of all days.

Somewhere inside of her mind, she had assumed that the good fortune of Claire's birthday party might outweigh her bad luck. She'd believed that it would last for at least as long as the birthday party. Maybe Casey had been right in some morbid way. In fact, the situation she found herself in had come about after the party was over.

There sat beside her a fully grown man that she had never seen before in her entire life. He was her height, clean-shaven with a tightly shorn scalp. He wore chunky black-rimmed glasses. He also wore a steel grey button-up and a black t-shirt under that.

Soft quick breaths, tense shoulders, white knuckles grasping at the leather steering wheel.

He sighed, breath trembling almost regretfully. Squeezing his eyes shut, his chest heaved with a precise control. The car was silent except for his heavy breathing, her own almost non-existent breath, and that of the two unconscious girls in the back seat. His shoulders fell with the sigh and he pulled the yellow cloth back out. He was smoothing it repeatedly as his eyes stayed squeezed shut. He hadn't noticed her yet, didn't seem to sense her presence. Whatever was going through his mind appeared to be of far more significance.

Teeth-shocking fear ran from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes like an electric current. She could taste old pennies on her tongue, sharp and metallic.

Casey didn't dare move. She didn't dare blink. She didn't dare twitch.

Whoever this man was, he meant them harm.

Not only had she seen enough movies and police reports on tv about abductions to warn her of his motives, but she also had something called common sense. And if the common sense hadn't been enough to drill the danger signs into her head, she'd more than a lifetimes worth of practical experience.

Little puffs of warm air streamed from the little plastic vents in front of her. They were distributing the man's clean pine-tree smell through the car.

His abrasive scent was so starkly clean that she wanted to choke on it.

Her fingers curled around the door latch, slow, intentional. Yet, she was uncertain. Not ready to flee. Her hands began to shake.

He tensed beside her, eyes sliding open. She tensed too.

But he didn't look at her, instead, he resumed running the cloth along the grey steering wheel. When he was satisfied with the wheel, he stopped. Taking in a breath, he began plucking knickknacks from the dashboard with that bright yellow cloth. It looked a bit like the kind you would use to wipe down glasses.

He was preoccupied- Now was her chance- She began to pull the latch, a millimeter, an inch. The motion was smooth and soundless.

The latch popped open.

With an audible quiet-shattering click, the still air was shattered by a loud ding ding ding of the car door.

He shifted in his seat, fixing his eyes on her. He looked at her blankly. His lips tightened and his eyebrows raised above black frames. Two seconds, three, she caught her breath. Was he going to do anything?

As fear climbed, scratching at her throat, cotton clogged her airways. Dark strands of her hair quavered just at the edge of her sight. His dark grey eyes flashed with first calm surprise, and then tight-lipped anger. Oh no, it wasn't anger, it was concrete resolve. His eyes were as grey as the clothes he wore. Only, she could tell they were supposed to be blue.

Casey didn't know how she knew.

He glared, eyebrows knitting further together. Suddenly his hands were slipping up toward his jaw, pulling the filtered white mask over his mouth where it snapped into place. She was frozen. He reached for his shirt pocket with steady hands.

A single cold tear dripped down her cheek. And then the sound and pressure of aerosol spray hit her square in the face.

Sound. Sight. Smell.

Everything went black.

* * *

She'd been shoved back into the room with the beds after Macia had tried to escape. Casey had sat, waiting, too numb to fear for her fate. Finally, the lock on the other side of the door had clicked and the door itself had swung open.

Tall. He was towering. He was hulking despite sharing her height. Dennis had broad shoulders, chest just as wide. He was unmoving. Underneath his long grey sleeves, muscles rippled and veins pulsed. This man might as well be an unmovable wall.

A thorny but symmetrical maze.

He stood in the doorway blocking her view into the rest of the building. His dark eyebrows were scrunched together in disapproval, in irritation. Crossing his arms, he stared her down.

Yet, despite his menacing presence whenever he took a breath, it looked strained as though his snug shirt was too tight for him. Each inhale and exhale was a struggle. Every movement appeared to be a battle. And then there was the lip licking, the nervous unconscious way he wet his mouth. There was the way he averted his eyes. Then there was the scalp brushing. The way he would scrap a hand over his skull, looked like the rubbing was to prevent him from wringing his hands together.

How could such a frightening man exude such nervous energy?

She didn't want to feel pity for the man who had nearly molested her schoolmate.

Then he was marching right up to where she sat on the bed, adjusting his slacks, adjusting his glasses with uncontained jitters. "The dark-haired girl, she's gonna be kept in another closet." He sat on the bed, rigid.

She scooted away from him. Her back knocked into the plaster wall.

"You might as well know at this point. The Beast? He's coming for you." Dennis's scent invaded her space. The smell of harsh cleaning materials stung her nose. He leaned in eyes searching hers for something she couldn't place. He didn't look pleased. On the contrary, Dennis's face was tinged green. "All three of you are gonna be kept separate." His voice wobbled and he jabbed a long finger into the covers. Behind his words, she could hear regret. Maybe not regret? Maybe he thought it a pity to waste such young pretty girls.

He looked at her now, really looked. His gaze slipped down her neck to rake across her chest. Bowing his head, eyes glued to her chest, he saw something she couldn't. Chewing on his cheek, jaw clenched.

Casey tensed as her body shrank in on itself. She clutched at her middle, fingers scrabbling at the tight-knit of her sweater.

"Y-you've-" His voice shook worse then it had at any point before. His eyebrows bouncing up into a pained grimace, "You've got- a- a crumb! On your shirt!" he waved a shaking hand at her chest. His finger nearly brushed the bulging zipper of her sweatshirt. With each frantic syllable, his deep and thick Philidephia accent grew stronger. His head bowed, his chin to chest, his hunching shoulders squeezing into his frame, Dennis was the image of pain. Painful restraint. Everything that had made him Dennis and not Patricia, not Hedwig, had fallen away. The square towering shoulders and his steel gaze were gone, crumbled because of a single invisible crumb. Knees quaking, he sagged on the bed.

"Pl-please take it off." He shook his head, gesturing for her to obey, other hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist. "Just-" his hand scraped across the skin-close stubble of his skull. "Just take it off." He dropped lower into the doughy mattress, elbows digging into his sides.

Why did this monster seem so resigned?

Despite everything, she felt her fingers itching to reach out to press a comforting touch into his rigid skin. He was so distraught over her shirt and so broken by the simple disarray of her clothing, that strange pity filled her chest as fear still burned her throat.

His fingers spasmed as he squeezed his eyes closed, a vein pulsing in his throat. He stood, turning on his heel and facing the hard brick wall. He waited as fluttering-tight breaths escaped his throat like a panicked prayer. "Take it off. I might not- I might be forced to do it myself, just cooperate."

She wasn't slow this time, her fingers slid up under the worn fabric of her sweatshirt and pulled it up and over her head. She didn't bother with the zipper.

When her hand made contact with the blazing skin of his wrist, he turned. His knuckles whitened again against the crumpled fabric. His eyes laid heavy across the bare skin of her throat, traveling down to the peaking flesh of her breasts that were only just contained by the skin-tight white undershirt she wore. Dark disappointment bubbled beneath his gaze. His eyes traced the exposed skin, and terrible suffocating heat clawed its way up her throat. She could feel his gaze on her skin like a physical caress, raking burning fingers across her breasts.

Casey lowered her head. Her fear was hotter than even the desire in his eyes.

But disappointment aside at the extra layer, he flapped the shirt out folding it purposely and mechanically in his wide hands.

He turned on his heel, exiting through the open door. It shut with a bang.

As she sat on the bed shivering in her sheer undershirt, Casey realized with growing clarity that those eyes burned because of her own shame. She replayed the images of his lingering gaze and while there was attraction, there was fear in the man's eyes. The fear far outweighed the desire. He had hovered before her with sweatshirt in hand like he was afraid he would reach out and touch her. As much as he was the picture of longing, there was no threat in him.

She sat with her knees still pulled up into her chest. Shivers swept through her body but as the truth of his gaze settled in her heart, the shivers calmed. Maybe she would be eaten, but her body was safe.

At least for the time being.

**Author's Note:**

> **unpopular opinion: Dennis is a lot gentler than most of the fandom write him.**
> 
> (also I wanted to write more for this but this is how long it ended up being. the first rough draft was 350 words. thank you for reading you wonderful wonderful wonderful person!)


End file.
